


I'll Be There

by CheekysMagic



Category: BBC Sherlock, Jimlock - Fandom, Sheriarty - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Drugs, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mind Palace, Overdosing, Sheriarty - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes Returns after Reichenbach, Sherlock Is Not Okay, jimlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 19:50:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6253669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheekysMagic/pseuds/CheekysMagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh Sherlock, what have you done?”</p>
<p>Sherlock decides to overdose in order to see the only man who can set his head straight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be There

**Author's Note:**

> This work is based off this tumblr prompt here: http://jimmriarty.tumblr.com/post/141054612735/mindpalacejim-gently-talking-sherlock-through-his
> 
> This is based after The Reichenbach Fall.

Sherlock knew that he’d overdosed before his brain even had time to react. His thoughts were scrambled and his mind was spinning so it was hard to maintain focus. Oh how he wished he could say that he regretted this, but there was not one scrap of whatever was still rational in his brain that registered this as regret. If anything, it was times like this that Sherlock truly looked forward to it. 

His physical body was laid on the floor of his flat, convulsing and shaking from the strong overdose of heroin that was currently flowing through his veins and causing him to nearly have a seizure. His mind was the only thing holding on and yet, he’d lost all that was left of reality. 

You may ask, how does he know that he lost all reality? Well, the first reason may be that Sherlock may have been laid on the floor in the real world, but right now, he was sat on the sofa in his mind palace. Fully conscious and only slightly high, though his complexion was worse for wear. 

He was pale, sickly almost and he had large bags under his eyes. There was no denying that even an idiot could deduce that the detective was drugged up. He practically screamed that he had toxins flowing through him. 

The other reason why Sherlock knew he’d lost his reality was that he was not alone in the flat. There was someone there with him, the one who he’d been looking so forward to seeing and it made his heart flutter when they walked out of the shadows and toward him, standing in front of the weakened man. 

“Oh Sherlock, what have you done?” 

A soft voice whispered, a hand cupping the side of his clammy face as their thumb stroked his cheek in a soothing manner which had Sherlock closing his eyes and sighing with the content that it brought him. “You know exactly what I’ve done, don’t pretend you’re my brother” Sherlock replied, seemingly out of breath despite having not ran anywhere. 

There was a chuckle from the being in front of him and they squatted in front of him, resting their head in his lap and taking hold of his shaking hands, kissing his knuckles in order to calm him since it was obvious that was his nerves were on edge and he desperately needed to be settled down. 

“You did this on purpose didn’t you? You wanted to see me again. Sherlock, my dear. You’re a fool” This just made the detective chuckle and he ran one of his hands through their hair, it felt so soft and warm as he combed his fingers through it and yet, he knew that wasn’t the case. “Is it foolish to try and see a man who I know I will never see again? It’s cruel but this is my only method” 

The figure shook their head and they stood up, seating themselves onto Sherlock’s lap and their fingers now running through his sweat-soaked locks which were sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck. They seemed unaffected by this though, almost enjoying playing with his hair. 

“Sherlock my dear, you know there are many methods to see me again. You just like this one because it gives you a thrill. You always wanted a thrill, why always from me though? What did I offer you that was any equivalent to heroin? And why must you now risk your life to see me with the very drugs that you used me to replace?”

A silence fell across the already quiet room as Sherlock found that he needed to think about his answer before responding to the figure who had now pressed their head against his own, he could feel tears pricking in his eyes and he was quick to wipe them away since he didn’t want them to see that he was upset by their question. 

“Because as you said before about yourself, you were my greatest distraction and… And now I don’t even have you. Because you’re dead, you’re dead Jim” The silence carried on again and the man who had been spoken to sighed and closed his eyes, pressing himself closer to the detective as a way to comfort him. To let him touch him, let him feel how warm and alive he was. 

Even though he knew the moment he came out of his overdose high, he wouldn’t even be in the same room as him. He’d be gone. Forever. 

“Sherlock, you need to turn onto your side or you’re going to choke on your own vomit. Turn over now or you won’t be the only one who’s dead”

Despite what Sherlock had said just before, Jim remained as calm as ever and this brought reassurance to the detective that told him that in this place. In his mind palace, Moriarty was not fazed by the idea of his death. In Sherlock’s mind palace, Jim Moriarty was healthy and alive. 

Oh how he wished it was the same in the reality that he’d just so happened to have lost in order to see him. In this own reality, Sherlock turned onto his side and he felt his vomit drip from his lips as he coughed and choked, feeling oxygen fill his lungs. God how he resented the sensation of remaining alive.

Their lips connected and Sherlock felt the tears that he’d so desperately tried to keep from Jim spill from his closed eyes but it was something he couldn’t help. His lips felt so real, his hot breath against his skin, the touch of his hands on his face. Sometimes he wished that this was his reality, just so he could kiss Jim as much as his heart contented. “You know I love you. You knew that I loved you. Why did you kill yourself? Why did you leave me to suffer?”

The criminal on his lap sighed and kissed his temple, his lips then shifting towards his ear where he very delicately whispered. “Because that wasn’t the way it was meant to be. This little game of ours Sherlock, I found that I loved you too and that’s why I couldn’t let it continue. What we had, it was just too dangerous to let it keep living. So I killed it before it could thrive” Sherlock tightened his grip around Jim and suddenly the whole room around him swayed and he gasped, he knew what that meant. 

He was coming out of his high and it meant he was going to lose Jim. He was going to lose him again. 

“Just keep breathing Sherlock, can you do that for me? Keep breathing or you’ll never wake up”

“And what if I don’t want to wake up?! What if I want this overdose to kill me?! What if because you caused me so much pain that I’d rather let myself die right here, right now then have to go back and know you’re not alive?! I can’t do this Jim… Not anymore” The detective was standing now. He knew his nerves were fried, he knew he was being dramatic and he knew he was angry. But he was just so sick of this. 

He was sick of having to get high to see him, that whenever he wasn’t drugged up he wished that he was. That his addiction had worsened ever since Jim had decided to shoot himself in his mouth right in front of his eyes after they had just touched so intimately for the first time. 

Sherlock would never forget how soft Jim Moriarty’s hand was, or how it squeezed his own just before he shot himself. How only seconds before he saw life in his eyes and then then seconds after, that life had escaped them. 

Despite having destroyed his web, having gotten back to his old career and associated with his old friends. It hadn’t stopped the crippling depression and boredom from creeping back up on Sherlock. That the drugs came back to fix that, that the first time he had OD’d, Sherlock had seen him. 

And from that moment on, overdosing was he only thing that made him happy. 

The most dangerous way for any man to be happy and yet, like what James had said, it gave Sherlock a thrill. 

“Please just breathe for me, I don’t want you to die Sherlock. This game has ended; you need to realise that I’m not always going to be here. I’m dead and you need to accept that Sherlock. It’s time you went back to reality, time that you forget me. Because I’ll always be in your mind palace, only buried deep for that time where you’ll be closest to me”

Sherlock looked at him confused and furrowed his brow. “And when will time be when I’m the closest to you, Jim?” The criminal smirked at him momentarily and then walked back over to him, reaching upwards to kiss him on the lips and then part to stare at him intently as he wanted him to have all of his focus. 

“When you’re dying Sherlock, I’ll be there”

The detective was about to reply when suddenly his vision blurred and everything started to rock around him, his mind palace crumbling as he started to be pulled back into reality. When he opened his eyes, he found that he was still on the floor of his flat, vomit beside him and oxygen still flowing in his lungs. 

He was alone, Jim was gone and he was all alone. 

His last words echoed around in Sherlock’s mind, almost like a cruel chanting that Sherlock couldn’t quite ignore. He closed his eyes again and started to cry, curling up as he tried to push away the last ever words Jim Moriarty would speak to him. 

_“When you’re dying Sherlock, I’ll be there”_

_“I’ll be there”_

_**“I’ll be there”**_


End file.
